bringing_sexy_beck | AU

Entry tags:

AU | for Corbin}

from here
Quentin was there within forty-five minutes.

He really hadn't been that far away in the first place, and he headed out as soon as Corbin sent that picture of him at the convenience store. Triangulating from there hadn't been hard. Once he had the name, he sort of figured out who Corbin is--he had a clue, but the name helped--and he might have slipped a text along to the kid's uncle. A friendly offer to keep an eye on him, he was in town, he was happy to keep him entertained. Teenagers were a handful. Nobody wanted the kid getting in trouble.

How old was he again?

(Turned out, a little younger than Quentin had thought, but he was still in the car on the road, on the way.)

When he gets to the motel, he parks not far from where the pin is. He doesn't linger for very long. Long enough to maybe make it seem like this is something new and exciting and adventurous for him too. It isn't. That wasn't the point. If he can cultivate that edge of tenderness before anything happened, Corbin will be more at ease. It was probably a little bit gross that Quentin knows that.

Eventually, he climbs out of the car and goes up to the door, knocking.

"Corbin?" he calls gently. "Hey, it's Quentin Beck."

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45 minutes was just about long enough for Corbin to convince himself that this was a bad idea, and then that it was a good idea, and then debate what he should wear, and then work himself into a lot more worry and nerves and... alright and anticipation. Because holy shit, this Quentin Beck guy was hot. Ridiculously so. Movie star hot. And he thought Corbin was worth even talking to? That he was hot? That he was worth fucking? Corbin's boyfriend (who he was very determinedly not thinking about) evidently didn't even think that, since he had yet to, you know, actually do it.

He takes a deep breath and answers the door a few seconds after the knock. He's dressed, a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts seemed like a pretty safe bet, he didn't have anything fancy, and naked or shirtless just seemed... kind of thotty if he was being honest. He's short though, not even five and a half feet yet, and skinny, the sort of skinny you got from having to run around a farm doing chores most of his life. He had some muscle under him, but he'd also never gone to the gym a day in his life.

"Hi, Mr. Beck." He steps aside to let him in, giving a quick glance up and down the hall. God, he's even hotter in real life.

The gym shorts were a nice touch. Very netflix-and-chill. Well, Corbin's just a kid, so that's about all Quentin can expect really; gym shorts, sweatpants, or jeans. For his part, Quentin's just a jeans and t-shirt and jacket kind of guy, and when he steps in the jacket is gone in just a second, the shoes kicked off as soon as the door is shut.

"Lemme get a look at you," Quentin says with a bit of a smile. Maybe that's a thing to say, but it was out now and there was no taking it back, and he meant it. This wasn't weird, transactional. He tried to remember if he'd ever met Corbin, which might make this weird, or if his uncle had only ever mentioned him off and on in their various brief meetings and dealings over the past few years.

Well, it might make it weird for Corbin. Not Quentin.

They hadn't met, the lack of recognition in Corbin's eyes is proof enough of that, but Gunther had mentioned his nieces and nephews once or twice, especially since he was comfortable around Quentin. He was a good guy after all, pretty trustworthy he felt. A good guy, unlike a lot of the people the man hung around with during his "work."

But one look at Corbin is enough to suggest they're related, the same red hair and the same freckles, he has his uncle's mouth that's prone to smiling, even if he looks a mix of anticipatory and worried right now. The boy's accent is strong, Gunther has managed to get rid of most of his, it takes someone used to listening for accents to hear the slight bits of Appalachia that still cling to his words, but Corbin has never tried.

"Y-yessir?" He tips his chin up, not sure what Quentin, what Mr. Beck wants from him... okay well other than the reason he'd invited him over in the first place. Which has his stomach in a ball of fluttery knots.

"You okay?" Quentin has to ask. It's that nudge, the need of consent, probably the only time he'll ask throughout this encounter. He'll stop if Corbin protests in the middle of it, but other than that there's no need, right?

He curls his finger under Corbin's chin, grips him gently with his thumb so that he can brush at that full lower lip for a moment. Oh, he is lovely. And then he slowly stalks around him, trailing his fingers over his body, feeling all the narrow, sinewy parts of him, where he's still growing into himself.

"Are you nervous? It's okay. You can talk to me." His fingers brush the swell of Corbin's ass, a teasing little touch. "You were so ready to be all grown up, sending that picture in the first place. But it's okay to be a little nervous at first."

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine." The words come out automatically, he's fine, or he's going to be. This was alright, he'd invited him over, he was being nice, he was hot, it was alright... it was fine.

The touches make him shiver and twitch, his breathing quicker and his heart starting to pound, this was real. He nods, his mouth a bit dry. "I um, yessir? Just a bit, it's fine." He forgets for a moment that the picture that had started all of this hadn't even been meant for Quentin, and his cheeks flush red. "Didn't really expect this kinda response, that's all. I'm fine, really." He smiles up at him, see he's fine. He's unsure of himself, feels at least twice as gawky and gangly as usual, but he's fine really.

“Do you not normally get a reaction?” Quentin doesn’t bring up this boyfriend, who is probably closer to Corbin’s age and who the original picture was intended for, because it doesn’t really matter, but there’s the barest implications there. Anyway, he stays where he is, behind him. He keeps his hand on his ass, tracing the shape of him, feeling him out. Teasing. After a few more touches, he even starts to creep his gym shorts up so he can touch the skin of his leg instead.

It’s not much but it’s a start. He can’t get to much like this but it’s a touch, a suggestion. They stand there, warm and close, and Quentin has to stoop a little to touch Corbin’s thigh, to hike up the leg of his short.

“I’d think you’d get plenty of reaction, sweetheart.”

"I mean yeah just um, not like this..." Usually he'd send Jon a picture and then get some back and if they could they'd meet up, but since neither of them had cars that was kind of hard to do, and the bribery necessary to get any of his siblings to take him over there was just barely worth it. This was... damn near immediate, this was eager and it made this warmth spread in his stomach and up the back of his neck.

The hand on his ass, the way he touches him, the way his hand starts to creep up and touch him have him shivering, he's not really sure what to do for a moment, with Quentin's breath on the back of his neck. His cock got hard almost immediately, he's not sure what to do with his hands or how this is supposed to go, this is as different from his eager fumbling with Jon as night to day. He turns around, chewing on his bottom lip, tipping his head up a bit to look Quentin in the eye. "Um, well I did, didn't I? Uh, get a reaction. He just doesn't know it's the reaction of a predator scenting blood.

Corbin turns around, and Quentin moves his touch from thigh to chin again. He certain looks like some sort of predator, a cat that got the canary. His grin is toothy, slow and near feral. He puts his hand gentle on Corbin's neck and backs him up, back back back until he touches the dresser. One of those tacky ones with the mirror attached to it.

"Turn around," Quentin says, authority, no room for questions. "Take your shirt off. Let me see those lovely freckles again."

Even as he says it, he slides his fingers under his gym shorts so he can push those down as well. No need for them, or his underwear, any longer, even if they catch against Corbin's erection a bit on the way down to pooling around his ankles.

Corbin shivers, as much as he tries to suppress it, he can't help the shuddery feeling down his spine as Quentin backs him up til he hits the dresser, and he jumps, he had forgotten it was there. That grin was doing something to him, and he couldn't put his finger on what exactly, a combination of fear and anticipation and a warmth in his gut that makes him want more.

"O-okay..." he turns around and is presented with himself, cheeks flushed, and Quentin behind him with that toothy smile of his. He chews on his lip a moment and then takes his shirt off, showing the freckles across his chest and back and shoulders, the result of a redhead who has to spend time out in the sun a lot. Quentin might remember Gunther mentioning his family has a farm, one which he was glad to get away from when the harvest had to come in.

The shorts getting shoved down make him breath in sharply, abruptly aware that he's naked now, and the flushed cheeks get worse, spreading up his ears and down to his chest. He looks down at himself because that's easier than looking in the mirror. He kicks the shorts away so they don't get tangled, even if he has no idea what's going to happen next. Or, he's pretty sure he knows what's eventually going to happen at least.

"Keep your eyes up," Quentin says.

He doesn't look at the mirror, because he's too busy looking at Corbin's sweet, tight little body. But he wants Corbin to look. He wants him to see the soft faces he makes, the waves of his flush, the way his mouth parts or his eyebrows pitch and pinch and knit. Quentin leaves him there for just a moment to get the lube, which Corbin's left on the bed, and to take off his own shirt.

He's got freckles of his own on his shoulders and the sides of his neck, a lifetime of fair skin in various places, and some hair on his chest, some on his stomach as well. A dark trail from navel to the waistband of his jeans, which are open but not displaced yet.

Quentin squeezes a generous dollop of lube onto his fingers.

"It's gonna be cold at first," he warns, and puts his lips gently against Corbin's shoulder. "Spread your feet a little bit. Just a little. Come on, sweet heart."

Corbin does as he's told, looking into the mirror and watching as Quentin walks over to the bed and gets the lube he had bought less than an hour ago at the gas station. Fuck.

The shiver that runs through him at the kiss is visible, he can see it in the way he tenses in the mirror, the way his mouth falls open a bit, and he's embarrassed by it, his eyes going down only to come back up again. "A-alright..." he steps a bit wider, holding on to the edge of the dresser, even if he's not sure if he needs to? But he also kind of feels like he needs something to hold on to, and Quentin is behind him, and thus out of reach.

Quentin smiles, and it's softer this time. He kisses Corbin again, relishing in soft, warm boy skin, the just barely musky smell. He's young enough that it's not really a teenagery smell, though he knows Corbin's a teenager. Quentin promptly stops thinking about that. The less he thinks about it, the better.

He rubs his slick fingers along the cleft of Corbin's ass, smearing the cool slick there, circling the tight pucker of his hole. Not pressing in but spreading it and warming it up.

"Are you going to be sweet and talk," Quentin asks softly, "or is that a lost cause?"

The kiss gets him another shiver, and he makes a bit of a squeak noise when the lube touches his ass, it was cold, but it surprised him.

It took him a second to realize he wasn't breathing, and his air rushed out in an almost laugh. "I uh, sorry? I just... ain't sure what to say." He did chuckle a bit, haha funny, right? What was Quentin expecting him to say? This wasn't a porn, he didn't think he'd want a bunch of 'fuck me' or whatever begging... or was that what he was supposed to be doing?

"You don't have to," Quentin says, mouth migrating softly. Well, he'd love to hear all those 'fuck me's and 'please's and 'oh god's and whatever else Corbin wants to give to him while Quentin takes him apart.

The lube warms up. Corbin warms up. Quentin eases the tip of his finger into him, slowly. Everything sweet and slow, for now. He wanted Corbin to feel good for all of this, from this slow, sweet, steadiness all the way until he was fucking him as rough as the boy could take.

"You just enjoy those pretty faces," he murmured, right up against his ear, pressing his still-trapped cock up against him from behind as he sank more of his finger in. "Everything those faces do to me."

Quentin won't get words, but he does get little noises, sighs at the kisses, shivers as his lips move over bare, freckled skin. It relaxes him a bit, the softness. It feels nice, makes him want more.

Another noise, a gasping almost squeak as his finger breeches Corbin's entrance and that feels less nice, makes his eyebrows furrow and he whimpers as Quentin pushes the finger in, it feels so strange right now, even if it doesn't hurt. He lets his eyes fall, looking at himself like this feels, strange, almost voyeuristic, even if it's not. He felt the shape of Quentin's cock against his ass, so much larger than the single finger he has up there now. The mouth on his ear is nice, and the words make him pull his gaze back up, where he sees Quentin mouthing at his neck and shoulders, and himself, gawky and blushing, his cheeks and neck flushed and his brows knit together as Quentin works his finger in him.

"Easy," Quentin breathes. He sees the nervous tick of Corbin's eyebrows, the tension in his cheeks and feels the equal tension around his finger. That sweet, delicious tension makes Quentin want to do nothing more than ravish the boy, take him away from the mirror and shove him down on the bed and be menacing and rude and intense

He controls himself. Breathes sweet comfort against the boy's skin and pushes against his shoulders to get him to bend forward over the dresser, closer to the mirror. It'll help the feeling of taking Quentin's long finger as well.

"You're doing so well," he assures. "And there's no rush. We've got plenty of time, baby."

There's a stretch and he's not sure he likes it, but he doesn't hate it. He leans forward and that makes it better, resting on his elbows as he looks up in the mirror, watching Quentin and decidedly not looking at his own face, cheeks and ears flushed, mouth hanging open to breathe as he feels the fingers slide inside of him.

"O-okay..." He likes the kisses on his shoulders, likes the sound of Quentin's voice and his breath hot on his skin, so he focuses on that, on the things that he likes and how hot Quentin looks in the mirror, bent over his back, eyes intent enough to make him shiver.

It takes a little while until Corbin starts to ease up a little bit, until he starts to get sweet and easy around that first finger that Quentin's been using on him. And so he smeared in some more lube and nudged in with a second finger.

"Here we go, baby boy," he said. "You just breathe."

He was maybe going a little faster with the second finger than the first, but it was still mostly gentle. Like he cared. Like he could make this the best night of Corbin's sweet young life.

Another gasp, another whimper as he's stretched and he feels the burn of it now, his arms shaking a bit, and he puts his head in his hands, just trying to breathe, trying to relax, since that had felt a bit better, but Quentin's fingers are so thick, or they feel like they are.

After a very long moment of little hitched, whimpering breaths, his hand slips down to wrap around his cock, maybe that would help? He wants to touch himself because the things Quentin is saying, the tone he's saying them in, is so very nice, and makes him feel shivery, but maybe touching himself will help. He gives his cock a stroke or two, and almost immediately that feels better, so he keeps going, his cock was soft, but that was just for now.

It was an almost subtle gesture, Corbin reaching down to touch himself. Quentin hums thoughtfully, his free hand pawing across Corbin's ass, spreading the cheek slightly.

This time. Teaching him to get hard and slutty for a man like him. He can let Corbin stroke himself this time, get all sweetly turned on and desperate for it. Quentin likes that he wants to make himself feel good. Better than just knuckle-biting through it.

"That's good," Quentin sighs against his ear. He curls his fingers a little bit, seeking his prostate. "You keep doing what feels good, baby boy."

Corbin nods, whimpering as he strokes himself, okay that was helping, and he felt himself relax as he found a good rhythm, just about in time with Beck's fingers. And then they just barely brush against something that feels good, makes his cock jump in his fist and he gasps.

"Fuck..." he bites at his bottom lip, shivering as he presses his ass back against Beck's fingers. Okay, that had felt good, he wanted more of that, please.

"Oh, there it is." Quentin's voice is heavy, thick, praising. He scrapes his teeth briefly on Corbin's shoulder and keeps doing what he's doing with his fingers, encouraging Corbin to move, to fuck back on his fingers now that he's started. That gasp, that swear, the way he's starting to open up? It's all fucking good.

Quentin sinks down to his knees behind Corbin. He keeps moving his fingers insistent. He starts to tease with a third finger, and leans in to tease his tongue against him too.

"What a good boy," he murmurs between sweeping brushes of his tongue. "Getting hard for me. Getting ready for me."

The repeated brushes of Quentin's fingers have his shivering, his hips now moving back insistently against his fingers, even when he goes to put a third finger in the pleasure has him relaxed enough that he can ease into it. The wet heat against his ass has him gasping in surprise, but in there with the fingers and his own hand on his cock it feels... it feels good. His hand picks up speed, he knew, that Mr. Beck intended to fuck him, and that he probably shouldn't come before that, but he also knew this was just feeling better and better, and he didn't want to stop, not yet.

So he whimpers, quiet curses dropping from his lips as Quentin keeps stretching him open and god but it felt fuckin good. He hadn't realized it would feel this good.

Quentin pull back from licking his ass just enough to admire how he's taking it, the reflection of his face in the mirror, the flush working down the back of his neck and the shiver under his skin, how his thighs tremble. Oh, he can't wait to have him in bed, can't wait to be buried inside him.

Can't wait to have that tight ass hugging his cock. Corbin's sweet virgin ass is going to feel so good when he comes in it.

"You gonna make a mess on that dresser, baby boy?" he murmurs. He curls his fingers again, goes for the his prostate all over again, really milking it for him. "C'mon, Corbin. C'mon, sweetheart. Let's see it. There's a good boy. Come on my fingers, baby."

"Fuck fuck fuck oh god oh fuuuuuck" he whines, his movements desperate for a few short moments, but even if he'd wanted to he can't hold back, not with what Quentin is doing back there, not with those filthy words in his ear and his own hand rapidly stroking his cock. He tenses, coming with a surprised cry, painting little stripes of come on the cheap dresser of his hotel room, tensing around the fingers inside him. His head falls to the dresser with a quiet thud, his breathing heavy as he shivers through his orgasm. "Oh god..."

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